


Best Foot Forward

by rannadylin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, F/M, Post-Chroma Conclave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8061154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rannadylin/pseuds/rannadylin
Summary: An important Council opens with an important Grand Ball. Vex looks for a partner to practice her dancing. Set after the end of the Chroma Conclave arc, with spoilers through episode 60 and a bit of Perc’ahlia fluff. And a dancing bear.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lypreila](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lypreila/gifts), [servantofclio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/gifts), [BecauseDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseDawn/gifts).



Readiness was a watchword Vox Machina had learned time and again in the fight against ancient dragons. Even when time was of the essence, every little bit of preparation -- every Vestige acquired, every copper saved by haggling, every ally sworn, every hour spent in honing their skills -- could make a world of difference.

Even now, when the world took a breath in safety between Thordak’s fall and whatever crisis would surface next, readiness was key. Vex’ahlia’s preparations for tomorrow, however, had nothing to do with battle -- not of the sort to which Vox Machina was accustomed, at least. The rulers and leaders of Exandria were converging upon Whitestone for the Council of Reconstruction, and the weapons of this battle were neither bow nor blade, but a well-spoken word and a well-placed step.

It was the latter that concerned Vex at the moment. Her words (and winks) could charm well enough, but the rudimentary dancing lessons she had endured (no, she corrected herself: she had _enjoyed_ the dancing, actually, more than most of their lessons in those dreadful days) from her elven tutors in Syngorn had lain dormant for years with disuse. A grand ball would open the ceremonies tomorrow night for the week of council meetings, and Vex intended to make the best possible impression from the beginning. It would do her no good to be introduced as a baroness of Whitestone _and_ a hero of Vox Machina, only to falter on the dance floor like the country bumpkin she’d been born. She’d gone in search of a partner to practice with, but everyone suitable was either busy with other preparations or nowhere to be found. So she had resorted to the castle library, where she found a slim volume with little diagrams of feet moving through the proper motions. Vex had wandered down the halls of Whitestone castle with her nose in the book, pausing every so often to attempt to puzzle out one of the figures. She shuffled her feet through the steps, mumbling “Pardon!” and “Sorry, didn’t see you there” and “Oops, here let me help with that” when she bumped into servants hurrying by as they readied dozens of guest rooms. Trinket padded patiently along behind her, glancing up with a hopeful sniff when two young men hurried past, carrying between them a boar to be roasted for tomorrow’s feast.

The hallways were, she at last conceded, not suitable for dancing. Ironically, neither was the ballroom, swarmed at the moment with servants decorating under Cassandra’s watchful (and tasteful) eye. Frustrated after helping the latest servant pick up the piles of linens scattered when Vex, twirling from side to side with the book held out in front of her, collided with him coming around a corner, she paused and looked around.

Most of the rooms were open for airing and rather small for dancing anyway. But at the end of the hall she found what seemed to be a storage room, lined with shelves but otherwise fairly open at the moment. It seemed not to contain linens or anything else of the sort servants would be looking for today. Perfect.

Vex’ahlia set her book down on one of the shelves as she entered, Trinket at her heels. _Hrooomph?_ the bear rumbled in loyal ursine concern, nuzzling at her side as he followed her in. Vex gave him an appraising look, raising a hand to her chin. “The problem isn’t really the lack of space, so much,” she mused. “It’s the lack of partner. Trinket? Come here, buddy.”

The bear padded up to her with a questioning _whuff_.

“You remember that trick I taught you?” Vex beamed at him. “Up on two legs? Here now, darling, show me you can still do that.” She signaled as she had once taught him. Trinket looked around for a moment, dubious and reluctant, but Vex cajoled and scratched behind his ear and finally the great bear, seeming to heave a bearish sigh, shoved himself up onto his hind legs.

“Brilliant!” Vex clapped her hands together, then hastily put them out to stop Trinket when he moved to roll back onto all fours. “No, no, wait, Trink. I’ve a lovely idea. How would you like to be…” she smiled, flashing her teeth, leaning in conspiratorially, “...a _dancing_ bear?”

_Urrrrrmph,_ Trinket protested, to no avail. There was never any refusing his Vex when she truly wanted something from him. So it was that within minutes, Trinket was waltzing ponderously from paw to paw as Vex, balancing her arms somewhere near the bear’s shoulders, attempted to carry out the steps she’d been reading up on. There were some minor setbacks when the chamber proved a tight fit for a dancing bear, no matter how tight a box-step Vex tried to pull him through. Trinket’s furry posterior slammed into one of the shelves halfway through a turn, knocking two of the wooden planks awry and scattering their contents over the floor. Vex nearly tripped over a canister rolling away from the wall. Giggling, she kicked it aside and drew herself up to cling closer to her bear, holding up one paw in a fairly accurate representation of closed position. Soothing Trinket’s mournful grumbling with murmurs of praise for his ponderous grace, she hummed a waltz under her breath and led him into ever quicker turns.

The distraction of a quiet chuckle made her next step falter. Rocking back on her heel to right herself before she could tumble forward into Trinket’s flank, she twisted to see Percy in the doorway, sporting a smirk and a sizeable roll of wire. Destined for whatever secret project was going on this week in his workshop, she guessed. “Oh,” she said. “Percival! Hello, dear.”

“I presume there’s a perfectly obvious reason, Vex,” he said, carefully enunciating, “why you were dancing,” he glanced from her to the shelf Trinket had knocked over, “in a closet,” he looked over to Trinket himself with a slow blink, “with a _bear_.”

Dismissing a moment of curiosity at his plans for the wire, she withdrew her hands from the bear to plant her fists on her waist. “Well, the ballroom was occupied.”

“You really do like to stretch that bear’s talents to the limit, don’t you?” He nodded to her partner, as Trinket, released from closed position, swung forward to settle himself back onto all four paws, shuffling off to the side as if both mortified and relieved.

“Perhaps you hadn’t noticed, darling,” Vex drawled, “but your sister’s hosting a council of the most important people in the world tomorrow night in this very castle. A baroness ought to put her best foot forward, don’t you think? Literally, in this case.”

“Oh, of course,” he said, tilting his head. “Rather an insult to the visiting gentry, though, if you’re assuming a bear can match their dancing skills.”

“Trinket’s an _excellent_ dancer, I’ll have you know,” she huffed, turning to nudge the bear back up on his hind legs again. Trinket _whuffed_ in resignation as Vex grabbed at his front paw, rambling on: “So unless you have any better ideas, I’ll just get on with --”

A tap of two fingers on her shoulder startled her off her train of thought. Trinket nosed at her shoulder, the whisker-like fur at his cheek tickling her face as he peered up behind her. She turned to follow the bear’s line of sight and met Percy’s eyes as he grinned down at her.

“Actually,” he said with a shrug, “I thought I might cut in.” He tossed the roll of wire onto the nearest shelf and then turned toward Trinket, bending ever so slightly in the hint of a bow. “May I, oh honorable _Bear_ -on?”

Vex snorted and elbowed him in the ribs for the pun. “And you say _I’m_ offending the gentry.” He shied away from the jab, then held out a hand to her, eyebrow raised over the rim of his glasses in invitation.

She hesitated, her thumb absently stroking the fur of Trinket’s paw where she still gripped it while she eyed the young lord up and down. She met his eyes again, and yearning threatened to overwhelm the jest of the moment. Vex drew herself up in pride, patted Trinket again, and stepped away to let the bear sink back to all fours in relief.

“Well,” she said at last, “if you’re _quite_ sure you can do better than my current partner…”

“I _can_ dance, you know,” he retorted, clasping palms with her and drawing her towards him with a guiding hand at her waist more smoothly than she would have expected.

“ _Oh,_ ” she squeaked in awareness of their sudden proximity. He smelled of metal and gunpowder and the faintest whiff of mint, and a hint of the cedarwood chips she’d seen him once roll up with his spare shirts against the threat of moths. For all his forwardness in joining her dance practice, she could feel his hand on her waist tremble, and he hesitated now, standing still and staring at her with an expression that suggested he was just noticing _her_ scent, as well. Probably heavy on the bear-musk at present, Vex mused, and drew herself further into his arms while tilting her chin to look archly up at him. “Well?” she prompted.

He startled slightly as if drawn from a daydream. “Er,” he began, and then faltered, not quite meeting her eye.

“I can lead if you want,” Vex grinned. “Gods know _Trinket_ wasn’t handling that end of it before. But...to be honest, I’m years out of practice.”

“Here I was beginning to think you’d spent your evenings before Vox Machina waltzing through the woods with a bear.”

“Only figuratively speaking, darling.”

“You _were_ waltzing, though. Just now?”

She met his appraising glance. “You could tell that? Even with the bear?”

He shrugged, and then finally took the first step into a waltz rather crisper than Trinket’s. “You aren’t _that_ much out of practice, dear.”

She followed, stumbling ever so slightly through the first few turns. Percy held himself, and her, very correctly at first, almost stiffly. He had to be a bit out of practice himself, Vex mused, realizing that this was the first opportunity he must have had for dancing in all the years she had known him, and she couldn’t imagine that his years on the run before that had involved many waltzes either. She leaned in a bit closer to him at the thought. _It’s about time, then._ He clearly knew what he was doing, steps becoming surer at every turn. Vex relaxed, delighting in their flurry of movement even as she settled into the rhythm of the waltz. She started humming the dance tune again, closing her eyes and leaning her head back with a smile. Percy’s light chuckle rewarded her efforts. The song moved into a faster chorus; their steps picked up the pace. Somewhere off to her right - behind her - to her left, as they spun through another turn, Trinket grumbled and shuffled out of the dancers’ way, edging towards the door and the safety of the hall. Faster and faster they danced; Vex’s humming gave way to giggling as she tried to keep up.

One final series of turns, wider and wider in the space between the shelves -- then suddenly they were stumbling over one of those canisters still scattered to one side. With a yelp, Percy clung to Vex as he backpedaled into the shelves, landing with his back jammed up against them and a wildly laughing ranger in his arms.

Vex lifted her hand from Percy’s shoulder to his cheek and quickly leaned up to plant a kiss on his other cheek before slowly stepping back from him. She heard -- or perhaps felt, she was so near him -- his breath catch at the kiss, and his fingers tightened briefly on her right hand, still clasped in closed position. “Thank you for the dance, dear,” she murmured.

“I -- yes. Um, anytime,” he managed.

“Does tomorrow count as anytime?” she grinned.

He smiled slightly, righting himself from the shelves and straightening his shirt. “Are you asking me for a dance at the ball, Vex?”

“Well, obviously.”

“Then -- yes, obviously we should dance at the ball. It’ll be interesting to see what that’s like, dancing with you without shelves getting in the way.” He bent to replace a bundle of papers that their near fall had dislodged from the shelf, then reclaimed his own bundle of wire from another shelf and turned to go.

“Oh, and Percy?” Vex called. He turned back to her, raising an eyebrow in question. She continued, “Just how long have you been holed up in your workshop this week?”

He frowned. “Now Vex, just because you found me asleep over my workbench that one time doesn’t mean --”

“I’m just saying,” she cut in, tapping a finger to her own cheek, “you might consider shaving before tomorrow night, my dear scruffy genius.”

“Ah,” he said, running a hand over his chin. “I suppose it has been a few days.”

“Really darling, you’re practically more whiskery than Trinket!”

Percy huffed and glanced down at the bear, waiting patiently in the hall for his mistress. “Bears don’t actually _have_ whiskers, you know,” he pointed out.

“Well, you do, darling.” But all the same, she leaned up to kiss the stubble one more time before she slipped past him. As she started down the hall, nearly skipping as her feet threatened at every moment to break into dancing again, she glanced back at him with a wave and saw him standing as if in a dream once more, fingers to his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Prompt by Committee game on [tumblr](http://rannadylin.tumblr.com/)! Read more about the game and send me a prompt if you like, [here](http://rannadylin.tumblr.com/tagged/prompt-by-committee).


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